Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
The mechanic was watching me now.
Judging by his comfortable perch—his shoulder pressed against one of the many window panes—it looked like he had been aware of me all along and had waited for the moment my guard was down.
I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. I just stood there like an dummy with a death wish as he openly waited for what I would do now that I’d been caught. There was nothing in his expression to guide me either. No hostility, paranoia, or curiosity. Just impassive patience for me to make a move.
So I did.
With more grace and nonchalance than I possessed, I turned and walked away.
There wasn’t much left on Temperance Street. The pandemic had hit the economy hard, forcing most businesses to close. We were finally past the worst of it, returning to some semblance of normality. For this tiny street on the outskirts of Midtown, only Pride of Kings, a Caribbean café, seafood restaurant, hair salon, liquor store, convenience store, and car wash, remained. The other buildings were bleakly vacant.
I entered the mostly empty café, and the hostess seated me immediately. When the waitress, who introduced herself as Tanisha, arrived and tried to hand me a menu, I declined and asked for a glass of water instead. She paused, probably realizing I had no money, before rolling her eyes and leaving to get my water.
Once alone, I exhaled and stared at the hideous brown tabletop before praying to God that I hadn’t screwed up my chance.
You’ve been lied to.
Find the Pride of Kings.
“Here you go.” The waitress slammed my water down, making most of it spill on the table. Before I could check the bitch, the bell above the door chimed, and we both became distracted as we watched two of the finest men I’d ever seen swagger in like they owned the place.
Oh shit.
Immediately recognizing one of them, I slid further down in the booth.
My waitress had the opposite, and probably normal, reaction. Tanisha began to primp.
Of course, the one leading the pack was Mr. Dread Head himself.
Golden Boisseau.
“Hey, Golden! Hey, Roc!” the friendly hostess greeted as she rushed up to them. It was pretty comical since she couldn’t have been taller than five-three, and both men were well over six feet. The sight reminded me of a small dog jumping, yipping, and running around your feet for attention when you came home.
“What’s up, Desi.” Only the man I now knew was Roc bothered to speak back.
The hostess didn’t seem surprised, though. She just grabbed two menus from behind the stand and batted her fake lashes. “You want your usual table?”
“Thanks, baby,” Roc cockily answered for them both once again.
Golden didn’t so much as nod. His wide lips remained flat as his gaze surreptitiously swept the diner.
Somehow, I knew he was searching for me.
I slid down a little lower until my chin touched my heaving chest, but in the end, it only made me look like a fool. Golden spotted me anyway and wasted no time starting my way with Roc on his heels.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Um…so you have to leave,” Tanisha informed me.
Caught off guard, I tore my gaze away from the duo to look up at her. “What?”
“Leave!” I barely registered her commend before she snatched my glass from the table and hurriedly wiped up the mess she’d made.
I blinked. “Why?”
“Because this is their table. That’s why!”
I looked around at the other four or five empty tables before returning my stare to the waitress. “I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped, even though that was exactly what I wanted to do. “And I’d like another water.”
Golden and Roc could just sit somewhere else.
“No. If you’re not going to order food, you need to leave. I know your broke ass don’t have any money.” Tanisha smirked while holding my glass of water out of reach.
I parted my lips to curse her out when the glass was snatched from her hand by none other than the sexy mute himself. The three of us watched in stunned silence as he gently set the glass back on the table before me. Thanks to Tanisha, it was only half full now, but thirst was the least of my problems.
“I—thank you.” I waited for a reply or even a nod of acknowledgment, but Golden just stared at me.
Oh, boy.
“The fuck you over here plexing on little girls for, Tanya?” Roc snapped while remaining completely unaware of the tension between his boy and me. As if it was the worst thing Roc could do to me, irritation surged at him calling me a little girl. I had no idea how old they were, but my guess was mid-thirties.
“It’s Tanisha,” the waitress corrected.
“It could be Tina fucking Turner, and you’d still be out of line. It’s a damn table, girl. It’s not that serious. Go get us our usual and hurry the fuck up.”